Helping Hand
by NostalgieMalaak
Summary: 4th in the 'Peace' Arc.  Everyone needs a helping hand every once in a while, even Quatre.


Title: Helping Hand

Author: Nostalgiemalaak

Rating/Warnings: R for wartime violence

Summary: 4th in the 'Peace' Arc. Can be read as a stand alone but you should check out the other stories for a full background

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I suppose the one thing I hadn't expected was the discomfort. I would never complain about it, never even hint at it. I didn't want them to think I was weak, that I couldn't handle it. I was very uncomfortable though. And cranky.

Fast marching through tangled brush was the only thing I could remember about the day. The colors had even started to blur in my fatigue and my legs were starting to fall asleep. I had simply sat down in the first clear spot and waited for my breathing to return to normal and my head to stop pounding. Sweat oozed down my face but I couldn't seem to find the strength to wipe it away.

I tried not to let my irritation show but after a full day of silently blundering through weeds and mud and branches that had clawed at my face and poked me more than once in places branches aren't supposed to poke, I was dead tired.

Trowa's last mission had gone bad but our luck had run out long before that. I was sick of dodging military sweeps and picking up and running at the slightest hint of detection. I was weary of all night lookout duty, bad food (which was better than the times we had no food), sneaking about and marching. I was most particularly done with the marching. The worst part about it was that I seemed to be the only one affected. I knew I had been pampered my whole life. Had never really had to sweat out heavy labor. But I had been trained. Didn't that count for something? All those hours of workouts and dieting and planning and running the sims until my hands bled. Was it all for nothing?

I had to stop thinking that way. I was a Gundam Pilot after all. I wasn't weak. I wasn't. Just tired. And cranky.

"Come on Quatre, time to get up," Trowa whispered. Heero and Duo had gone ahead to scout out the trail and would soon be returning. Trowa had probably already heard them with his keen hearing and was warning me of their imminent return.

I staggered wearily to my feet ignoring Wufie's scowl and sarcastic eye roll. Like he never got tired. But then, maybe he didn't. Duo and Heero had gone ahead to 'give us a breather' but I had a sneaking suspicion that 'us' really meant 'Quatre.' I scowled right back but Wufei wasn't watching. He was already walking towards the figures of Duo and Heero coming through the trees.

"Looks clear!" Duo said, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet.

"The wood ends about two miles ahead where there's a road lined with power lines. We'll have to keep to the forest but we can follow the road until we hit the nearest town. Should only take us another few hours," Heero reported. I mentally groaned. Another few hours meant that we would be hiking through the trees in the dark.

We set out again and I tried not to think about the blisters on my feet, the straps of my pack digging into my shoulder blades, or the aching in my stomach. The last few weeks had been nothing but misery. We had abandoned our Gundams as they would be of little use to us in the thick northern forests. Our targets consisted of a number of mobile doll production facilities and military bases. They were well hidden and difficult to penetrate but we had found them and completed our mission. Unfortunately the destruction of their bases had made Oz less than pleased. No town had provided us safety or shelter and we found ourselves running from campsite to campsite in order to evade their patrols.

Darkness closed in around us quickly and soon I was stumbling over roots and bushes. Duo dropped back from his position behind Heero to wait for me, struggling behind the others. He cheerfully slung an arm around my shoulders and subtly helped guide me. I don't know how he was able to see in the dark so well and I couldn't help but be a little envious even though I was grateful for the help.

"Just think Cat, tonight you'll be sleeping on a real bed with a real roof over your head! We might even be able to scrounge up something better than these stupid ration bars for once."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I whispered back, irritation washing over me in waves. Suddenly I didn't want Duo's arm over my shoulder. I shrugged it away angrily.

From what I could see of his face Duo had a look of genuine puzzlement marring his features.

"What do you mean, Cat?"

"That I'll have a real bed tonight! Like I can't handle sleeping on the ground, like I need to be pampered or something!" I ground out.

"Look man, I didn't mean anything by it. You just look tired, ya know? A night in a bed will do you good."

"Because you don't need a bed? You and all the others are so invincible all the time!"

"Well, what do you want me to say?" Duo asked, anger lacing his tone, "You should be happy that you're not used to this! It's not like we feel lucky that we can handle this shit!"

"That you can handle it?! You can handle it. But I can't. I get it. Well excuse me for not being able to handle it like the rest of you can!" I was gasping for breath I was so mad. Turning smartly on my heel I stalked off away from the group. My righteous fury was slightly ruined when I caught my foot on a plant and almost stumbled into a tree. As I stomped off I heard the other four stop and begin talking quietly. No one moved to follow me and soon I walked beyond hearing range of them. The fact that none of them even seemed to care that I had left fueled my anger even more to the point that hot tears stung behind my eyes. I wouldn't let myself cry though. I wasn't weak. I'd show them how well I'd be able to handle myself alone. I would make it by myself. Probably find the town ahead before they even got there. Yeah, just as soon as I figured out where I was.

In my self-righteous stomping and fuming away I had gotten completely turned around in the dark and had no idea where I was.

-----

Going forward, marking my path and even backtracking had all proven to be fruitless. I was as lost as I had been two hours before but now all the anger had left me and cold dread settled into the pit of my stomach. I stopped for a moment and took a deep calming breath. This was no big deal. I had destroyed military bases, escaped OZ patrols, and piloted one of the most fearsome war machines of all time. I would not let some stupid woods beat me.

I needed a strategy. And if there was anything I was good at, it was strategy. When I left the group we had been traveling parallel to some sort of road and some power lines. That meant that there would be a clearing in the trees that marked where the road was. Now all I needed was to get someplace high enough to see the break in the forest and some daylight. Resigned to having to wait for sunrise I settled down in the accursed weeds and mud and tried to get some rest.

The search for the road never became reality. Shortly before dawn I was awakened by a rough kick to my ribs and a gruff voice telling me to get up. When my eyes were finally able to focus I found myself looking down the barrel of an OZ rifle.

An entire squad, ten tough looking soldiers in all, had crept up on me while I slept and surrounded me. I warily rose to my feet with my arms extended slightly over my head. The gun barrel motioned for me to turn and begin walking. I tried to remain loose and ready for any possible opening so I could make my escape but I was terribly sore from sleeping on the hard ground, not to mention tense from the feeling of the cold gun muzzle in the small of my back. I couldn't believe I had been so stupid! So lax in my defense! Worst of all was the knowledge that the other pilots had been right. I really couldn't make it on my own.

It wasn't really the time to start beating myself up. I had to focus and try to get away. Unfortunately the soldiers were well trained and they never let down their guard. My only hope was that maybe they hadn't recognized me. As far as I knew, the identity of pilot 04 was still unknown to all but my allies. I could possibly pass for a lost hiker. A lost hiker found with an assault rifle strapped to his back.

A half hour later my arms began aching fiercely and I slowly lowered then down to my sides. The pain came quickly and unexpectedly. The butt of the soldier's rifle cracked across the back of my head forcing me to my knees with a grunt of pain.

"Hands up until I tell you you can drop them."

A shiver of fear went through me at his words. They were so calmly and matter-of-factly spoken that they were chilling in their lack of intensity. I stumbled to my feet and raised my trembling arms above my head, this time bent at the elbows, my hands resting on the back of my head to try and alleviate the burn. The last shreds of confidence that I had held onto swept out of me and I was left feeling like the scared fifteen-year-old I was.

We didn't stop until late in the morning when I was allowed to kneel down, arms still raised. They took turns guarding me as they silently ate and drank and replenished their energy. They were not the type of soldiers I had faced before. Those had grown complacent and slow from easy living on bases that were supposed to be undetectable. The men around me were the real deal.

The soldiers marched me through the woods for the remainder of the day until the last bit of sunlight faded from the sky. I was so tired and sore that I could have wept when I was finally allowed to stop. The soldiers drifted in and out of the trees around the campsite like ghosts. Even though I couldn't see all of them at all times I knew they were there. Escape would be next to impossible.

I was made to kneel in front of a sturdy pine tree and my arms were raised to an uncomfortable level behind my back and secured around the tree on the lowest limbs. A rag soaked with water was pressed between my lips and I sucked on it greedily ignoring the taste of stale sweat and gunpowder that came with the moisture. The cloth was jerked away. A soldier, perhaps in his late twenties knelt on the ground in front of me and the interrogation began.

It became clear very early in the questioning that they believed me to be some sort of rebel fighter from one of the nearby towns. I was immensely relieved that they didn't think to associate me with the Gundam pilots, perhaps because of how young I looked. I didn't want to think that it was because they felt I was incapable of being a Gundam pilot due to my poor soldiering skills but I felt that this explanation may have been closer to the truth. After all, there were many young untrained kids joining up with rebel groups hoping to protect their homes or families. The thought made me sad.

As the questions continued and my answers, or lack of answers, began to frustrate my captors they became more violent. The physical torture was made worse by the way it was delivered: always in that same cold, methodical manner. As though they had all the time in the world to torture me and if they couldn't get what they wanted from me in a timely fashion I would be killed with no preamble. That thought made my scalp tingle and my stomach cramp up in knots.

When they were finally done for the night I could do nothing but sag in my bonds, letting my arms take the full brunt of my weight. My breath came in jagged gulps and much to my shame tears trickled down my cheeks to land in the dirt by my torn and dirtied knees. I didn't even try to fight the despair. I was too tired to fight it. Too tired to care.

----------

The night seemed to last as long as time itself. It was only spring in the mountain forest and the night was bitterly cold. My body went into spasms as the cold penetrated into my bones until finally I was left blissfully numb.

The dawn came. I felt the sun first on my face as it came slicing through the trees and it burned across my cheek. Even that slight warmth seemed to be as hot as a brand on my desperately chill skin. The soldiers came to me and cut the bonds holding my arms. I writhed in pain as blood rushed back into the bruised appendages, my cracked lips stretched wide in a silent cry. I was hauled to my feet and the marching began again.

About an hour in my knees gave out from under me and I stumbled heavily to the ground. An hour after that and each step was white hot agony shooting up through the soles of my feet. I plodded forward and tried desperately to think of something besides the pain but was unable. My thoughts were an absolute torment. I had failed not only myself but the others as well. I hadn't said a word to the soldiers but the fact of my capture solidified my failure. I had been so stupid!

Suddenly a sharp popping sound lit up the area like the flashes of an old-fashioned camera. I reacted instantly, knowing the sound of gunfire anywhere. Throwing myself to the ground I heard the brief cries of the soldiers dying around me. Ten shots went out and ten soldiers lay dead in the trees. I shakily got to my knees and forced my head up only to meet worried violet eyes. A hand came to rest on my back, another under my arm helping me to rise to my feet.

I can't explain the full gamut of emotions that ran through me at that moment but the one that came the quickest and strongest was relief.

The next few days were spent in a clearing not far from the ambush the other pilots had set. I rested in the tent and recovered my strength and said little to my companions. On the fifth day of recuperation Heero came to see me.

At first the other pilot sat beside me and said nothing. As had become my habit the last few days I didn't try to speak to him either. Finally, in a slow and deliberate motion, as though trying not to startle a skittish animal, he laid his hand on my head. The gesture was an odd one but it didn't feel paternal or patronizing. It felt like camaraderie and a lack of judgment. I let out a breath I hadn't know I'd been holding and nodded my head a little. Heero seemed pleased that I had understood and got up to leave.

Reaching the opening of the tent he turned to me. "There's nothing wrong with a helping hand every once in while. This time was your time. Next time will be someone else's. Don't think that we won't need the help. We will. And you'll be there for us." And with that he turned and left.

I laid back down into my sleeping bag and let my eyes drift shut as I pondered his words.


End file.
